


The village she built with her bare hands

by Zofiecfield



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Happy Ending, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27186017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zofiecfield/pseuds/Zofiecfield
Summary: Nicole and Wynonna take a road trip and have a best friends heart-to-heart.
Relationships: Wynonna Earp & Nicole Haught
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	The village she built with her bare hands

There came a time when the bloodshed was over and final sacrifices had been made, when the world stilled enough to rest and set down roots. As the dust settled, there was so much to be done. Lives had been lived amidst the chaos, but now, they could be planted and tended and kept without the sharp bite of fear and uncertainty.

It wasn’t long before the name began to float into conversations. _Alice_. The name arrived on their tongues with excitement and curiosity, anticipation. _Alice, at last._

But in their excitement, they failed to notice Wynonna as she paled. As she shrunk back from their musings. They failed to notice as her eyes darted away and she slipped out of the room mid-conversation. She withered under the weight of their expectations, of their joy that didn’t reach her.

By the time they noticed, she was already quite gone, drawn into herself and the guilt she carried. She threw herself into projects, into fights that didn’t fight back, into sleepless nights and a short fuse. _Alice_ became a name of whispers, said only with darting eyes, when they thought she was safely out of ear shot.

They bore into her, their concern a burden she didn’t have the energy to haul, their questions keeping her constantly off balance. She navigated these people, this family that had been her safety and solace, like one would navigate a dark city street. Alert and wary, on edge.

Weeks passed, and the name faded from use around the house. They were confused and saddened at the discrepancy between this unexpected reality and the new bustling life they’d built in daydreams.

The house seemed to echo eerily now with young laughter, and though their number had remained the same, family dinners seemed incomplete. No one felt this more than Wynonna, and in it, she withdrew from them further.

One among them loved her differently and saw her more clearly. A best friend matters for many reasons, but perhaps matters most when everyone else is a bit too close and doesn’t quite see.

Wynonna sat by herself at the kitchen table, slowly and needlessly stirring a black cup of coffee, staring at an old photo of her and her sisters, young and ignorant of the heavy world, tacked up on the fridge.

She hadn’t been sleeping well lately, or at all, to be honest. The rings under her eyes had grown darker with each passing day, as her eyes lost their focus. She slid from one moment to the next, often unaware of their passing. Sometimes, painfully, acutely aware of each.

“Hey, friend,” Nicole said, entering the room and planting a hand on Wynonna’s shoulder. “Let’s take a drive, get out of here for a bit.”

Wynonna didn’t respond, but she stood, and, mug still in hand, followed Nicole to the car.

They drove away from town and into the mountains. As the pitying eyes and question looks of her family fell behind them, Wynonna’s shoulders began to drop, losing their tension and leaving her underinflated. Nicole, no matter how many times the situation may have allowed for it, had never once looked at her with pity, never once handled her like a fragile, fractured thing. Gods bless that woman.

Lulled by the distance and the rock of the jeep over the uneven ground, Wynonna drifted to sleep for the first time in days.

She woke with a start as the jeep stopped, many hours later, the sky already starting to dim.

“Fuck.” She struggled against the seatbelt to sit upright, scrubbing at her eyes. “Where the fuck are we?”

Nicole squeezed her knee and gave her a smile that would have been reassuring in different circumstances. “Meet me outside when you’re ready. There’s water and snacks behind the seat.” She got out of the jeep and walked some ways away.

Wynonna took a sip of water but it sat poorly in her empty, anxious stomach and made her too aware of the ever-present tightness in her chest. She gave up and climbed out of the jeep.

Nicole wandered over and the two women leaned back against the hood. For a long time, neither spoke, looking out into the mountains and watching as the sun bid its leisurely farewell.

“Are we…?” Wynonna broke the silence but trailed off, unable to speak the words.

“Yeah.” Nicole didn’t look at her, not yet.

Wynonna took a shuddering breath. “Where?”

“Back there, just beyond that line of trees.” Nicole nodded behind them, gaze still set on the mountains and the orange-streaked sky.

They lapsed back into silence and it filled and filled and filled the space between them. For weeks, the careful silences of her friends, her family, had sucked the air from Wynonna’s lungs. Their worry, their unspoken questions, asphyxiating. Here though, this patient silence, without judgement or expectation, had a mending effect. She could feel herself beginning to come unstuck, pulling in new breath.

“Nicole,” she started, hesitating. She paused for a moment but forced herself to continue, to respect the moment and its breadth. “Nicole, I left her. Like my mom left me. She was mine, and I left her.” With this, she turned slightly, and Nicole met her with eyes kind and unflinching. Voice breaking, Wynonna pushed on, “Who am I to ask her to take me back after all this time, to put the burden of forgiveness on her? What gives me the right?”

Nicole scooted over and pulled her into a tight hug. Wynonna resisted on instinct, but steady pressure, steady breath drew her in and she found herself squeezing back.

After a long moment, Nicole released her, and, pensive, turned back towards the mountains. “Do you want my thoughts on this?” Wynonna had been sweetly force-fed so much advice lately, so many well-meaning thoughts. But this was an offer, not a demand.

Wynonna nodded and leaned back again.

“Wynonna, you and I both know that the specifics of the family we’re born into mean very little in the long run. Neither of us came out of childhood unscathed, with a neat nuclear family to call our own.”

Nicole shifted on her feet a little and chose her next words carefully.

“The family that we choose for ourselves, the ones we fight for and lay down our lives for, the ones we bare ourselves and risk vulnerability to earn. The ones we are loyal to when the world tears at us. The ones we wait for, no matter how long.”

She turned her head to catch Wynonna’s eye. Two sets of eyes glistening with too many heavy memories, too many wounds under the skin, still healing. “Wynonna, the ones we’re wiling to hurt, to abandon, when there is no other way to save them.” Nicole took a deep breath and collected herself, before continuing. “That family is the family that matters. Four years ago, you did what you had to. The most selfless act of love. You made a choice that only you could make. You feel ashamed, I can see written it all over you. But I see no reason for shame. We are not ashamed of you, Wynonna.

You can go on this way, and she will be okay. You and I both know that a girl can survive without her mother. She’ll fill the void you left will other women, her own found family.

Or, Wynonna, you can take a risk and give her a chance to make her own choices, with all her options open. Give her a chance to choose you. Doc. Waverly and me. The family you’ve found and fought to keep. The family that will be yours, and hers, always.”

She turned to Wynonna, finding tears already trickling down her best friend’s cheeks. Nicole reached over and squeezed her hand. “There is no expectation here. No demand. The choice here is entirely yours. No one even knows we came here.”

At this, Wynonna huffed a wet chuckle and raised an incredulous eyebrow at Nicole.

“Okay, yeah. No one _except Waverly_ even knows we came here,” she amended. “We can go back to Purgatory and carry on as we have been. We can never come back, or we can come back whenever you’re ready.”

Wynonna bent back and stretched herself across the hood, covering her eyes with her forearm and trying to steady herself. With a shuddering breath, she swung up and faced Nicole fully.

“What if I hurt her, Nicole? What if she accepts me and trusts me and forgives me, and then I screw it all up, like my mom did?”

At this, Nicole smiled a faintly sad smile. “You’ll hurt her again, in small ways. Parents always do. And that’s part of love, isn’t it? The imperfections are there, no matter how deep and consuming and unconditional.”

Nicole’s phone buzzed insistently in her back pocket. She pulled it out and showed Wynonna the screen, her smile lifting. 38 missed texts from Waverly. “But,” she continued, with a soft nudge on Wynonna’s shoulder, “you have a village surrounding you. We’ll keep you in line.”

Wynonna’s face was a flurry, emotions flickering across her brow. Nicole stepped closer and pulled her into a hug again. “And Alice will never be lacking in people who love her. This isn’t all on your shoulders.”

Wynonna dropped her head on Nicole’s shoulder for a second, then rallied herself. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Cautious, Nicole pushed, “Specify _this_.”

“Let’s go meet my kid, Nicole. Our kid. The communal village kid that you’re going to help me raise.” She shot a quick glare at Nicole and pushed a finger into her chest. “You promised. No takebacks. This kid is yours too now.”

Nicole grinned and raised both hands in surrender. “No argument here.”

As they climbed into the jeep, Nicole said, “Let me just text Gus to let her know we’re coming.”

Wynonna turned to her, confused now. “Since when do you text Gus?”

Nicole laughed, sheepishly. “So, I’m sworn to secrecy on this, but in the name of best friends, I’ll dish. Waverly has already set up a bedroom for Alice at my house, so Alice could come stay with us whenever she wants. And she needed Gus’s input on wardrobe and color scheme. We’ve been texting since then.” Wynonna gaped, and Nicole rushed to clarify. “Alice hasn’t heard a word of any of this. But Gus has been ready for a few weeks now, just in case we came…” She trailed off, searching Wynonna’s face.

Wynonna took a deep breath, resigned, then swung her finger in the air. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

They pulled back onto the main road and turned sharply down a narrow path, densely wooded. A quarter mile down, they arrived in front of a small house, with a rough swing hanging from one of the trees. At the sound of the tires over gravel, the front door swung open and Gus walked out onto the porch, a little older and a little greyer than the day she’d left Purgatory but standing just as straight and sure.

Wynonna climbed out of the car slowly and they held eyes for the stretch of a long moment. “Gus.”

“Wynonna.” Curt. “You’re here.”

“It’s time,” Wynonna said. “I’m sorry it took so long. Evil, you know. And then, well…”

Gus nodded, knowing, her face warming a little. “You always were a tough kid, Wynonna. But even the toughest take some time to heal.”

Wynonna blinked clear her eyes and swallowed hard. “Can I come in?”

Just then, the door creaked open a little further. A small girl appeared, inching forward to wrap a hand around Gus’s arm. Her serious face regarded them carefully. Wynonna sucked in a sharp breath. Nicole waved and grinned warmly. A smile began to slip across Alice’s face at Nicole’s cheery greeting. From there, her eyes slid to Wynonna, curious, but unafraid.

Wynonna smiled through the tears now rushing down her face. “Hi,” she managed around a sob. “You must be Alice.”

Alice nodded, growing bolder with each passing moment. She slipped away from Gus and picked her way down the steps towards them. “And I know you,” she said, eyes dancing with excitement. “You’re the lady from Auntie’s stories. I’ve been waiting for you.”


End file.
